


Shears To Us

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barber Geno, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Museum Docent Sid, Mutual Pining, Non hockey au, hair cuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Be right there,” he says to the new customer. He’s halfway to his feet when he looks up for the first time.All he sees are thick, black curls. The kind most people would die for, and even more, pay for. Next is the handsome face and strong jaw and full lips curling around his words when he says that he’s not in a rush.





	Shears To Us

                                             

 

At thirty, Geno’s no longer ashamed to admit that when he was growing up he was a bit of a mama’s boy.

He would go everywhere with her, to the market or to the post office; he even went with her to work a few times before he was old enough to start school, too attached to say goodbye for eight hours.

But once every five weeks she would announce that she needed just one hour to herself and pry Geno off her leg, wipe his tears, and hand him over to his father while she went to the salon.

His father took him to the barber shop.

The barber, Andrei, was tall and imposing and when he reached out to hook his finger beneath Geno’s chin, Geno pressed his face into his father’s prickly neck.

“Shy,” his father said, “misses his mother.”

Andrei clucked his tongue, then won Geno over by sneaking him small pieces of candy between the snips of his scissors.

Andrei’s shop was always busy. People coming and going, spending hours there talking about everything and nothing at all.

Andrei knew them all and Geno sat on his father’s lap and watched Andrei greet everyone by name and cut their hair and shave their beards without any kind of discussion.

It’s like he just knew.

He just _knows_ them.

Even as a child, Geno decided he wanted that. That kind of trust and comradery. A place where people feel comfortable enough with him to stay and talk for hours.

The older he got, the more he wanted it.

 

* * *

 

The day Flower coos at him and calls him a cherub is the day Sid decides enough is enough. He’s _got_ to find a new place to get his hair trimmed. The impersonal chain salon he used to go to (due mostly to its proximity to the museum) closed down a while back. As much as he hates changes to his routine, he sighs and starts clicking around online for a place close by. Preferably with online appointment booking, so he can avoid talking to anyone on the phone.

“You should see my guy,” Kris tells him, leaning back in his chair and twirling his docent badge around on its lanyard. “He’s fantastic. You won’t regret going to an actual neighborhood barbershop instead of the nearest fucking SuperCuts. It’s just better; you haven’t lived until you’ve gotten a shave at an actual barber’s. Plus, he does walk-ins.”

Sid considers the idea. Kris does have really, really nice hair.

“Okay,” he relents. “Give me the address.”

 

* * *

 

Ryan is small for his age and fussy, and when Geno comes at him with an electric razor in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other his big blue eyes well up with tears and he presses his face into the side of his father’s neck.

Geno puts both instruments down and rethinks his strategy.

It’s been five years since he first opened Britva and he’s seen all kinds of customers. Kids are always the most unpredictable.

Some of them are more than happy to sit in the chair and be spun around until Geno’s ready to cut their hair while they chatter on about their pets, or their teacher, or the annoying thing their little sister did the other day.

Others, like Ryan, need a bit more coaxing.

Geno and Ryan end up tucked beneath one of the vanities where Geno is carefully clipping at the hair by Ryan’s ear and telling him about Alex the Allosaurus who was also afraid to get his haircut.

“He had to be real brave,” Geno says softly as he holds the comb against Ryan’s head, “and in the end everyone told him they love new haircut. All his friends so excited for him, can’t wait to come back and get another haircut.”

Ryan sniffles. His eyes are still a little watery and his nose is red but Geno’s almost done with him.

“Really?” he asks and Geno gives him his most encouraging smile.

“Yes, really.”

He gets what he thinks might be the start of a smile on Ryan’s lips as he cuts the last bit of hair and immediately pulls the scissors behind his back.

“All done,” he says as he hears the bell above the front door chime.

Ryan scampers out to his father but Geno struggles to unfold his long legs.

“Be right there,” he says to the new customer, hoping that it’s a regular who will understand why he’s on the floor.

He’s halfway to his feet when he looks up for the first time.

All he sees are thick, black curls. The kind most people would die for, and even more, pay for.

Next is the handsome face and strong jaw and full lips curling around his words when he says that he’s not in a rush.

Geno stares until Ryan’s father clears his throat and he remembers that he has to check them out and make a future appointment—hopefully Ryan will want to come back—and he stumbles around his words in front of the beautiful stranger trying to explain it all.

“It’s okay,” the man says. “I don’t have an appointment or anything I just thought I’d come in and see if you could squeeze me in.”

“Is no problem.” He would clear his entire schedule for this man. He points to the chair to his left. “Have a seat. Be right with you.”

 

* * *

 

Oh god, it’s too much. The barber is gorgeous—tall and lanky, with an endearing, strong-featured face and a warm, rumbling Eastern European accent. Sid also is honest enough with himself to admit that men who are good with children? Pretty much make him swoon like a Regency heroine.

While the barber is busy with his adorable client and his father, Sid takes the opportunity to glance around the shop and compose himself. It’s a warm, inviting space. There’s a big front window with old-fashioned lettering on it, and the high walls are brick. There is a pleasant clutter of ephemera and memorabilia hung from the walls. Sid notices a Steelers jersey, a poster of Moscow, children’s artwork in crayon, and an antique hockey stick, among other things. Chrome and leather chairs, a box of children’s toys in the waiting area. Homey. He likes it.

Almost as much as he likes its proprietor.

Shit.

 

* * *

 

Geno gives Ryan and his father his full attention as they pay and Geno carefully prints out his name in the appointment book five weeks from now.

Ryan waves at him from his spot on his father’s hip.

He waves at the man in the chair as well and his face lights up as he waves back.

“Cute kid,” he says when Geno comes over to him and Geno nods.

“Very cute. Little nervous about haircut but leave with a smile so is good.” He puts his hand over his chest just to stop himself from burying his fingers into the soft curls at the back of the man’s neck. “I’m Geno,” he says and the guy twists around in the chair to offer up his hand.

“Sid,” he says.

Sid’s grip is strong and warm and when Geno pulls back his hand is tingling.

He clears his throat and tries to shake it off as he looks at Sid’s reflection in the mirror and finally, _finally_ , wraps a dark curl around his finger.

“What can I do for you?”

Sid wants his hair cut, short, and Geno has to bite back his objections. He is a professional and it his job to give the customer what they want so he says his goodbyes to the beautiful curls as he takes his time working shampoo through his hair.

Sid’s wet hair slips through Geno’s fingers as the suds swirl down the drain and Geno takes extra time and care when he squeezes the moisture with a soft towel.

He sighs down at the locks of hair that fall to the floor and everytime he glances up into the mirror Sid’s staring back him.

He feels his face warm and a smile form on his lips.

When he’s almost done with his hair he spins him around to make sure everything is even. His fingertips brush against his temples and Sid briefly closes his eyes and his lips part.

When he opens them he clears his throat and his eyes slip towards the front window.

“Your sign says twenty for a shave.”

Geno lets his hands slip from Sid’s hair to the side of his jaw. The stubble is rough beneath the tips of his fingers and the faint scratching sound makes him shiver.

Losing the curls and the facial hair in one fell swoop…

Geno plasters on a fake smile. “You interested?”

Sid nods and Geno unclips the cape from around his neck then gently brushes a towel against it trying to get rid of any hair that might have gotten stuck.

With the curls gone Geno has a great view of the curve of his neck and the strong way it slopes down to meet his shoulder.

 _One good thing,_ he thinks as he leads him over to the barber chair and slowly tips him back.

“You ever get a straight razor shave before?”

“No. But my coworker said I should get one when I come here. He says you’re the best.”

“Coworker is a very good man,” he teases as he wraps a warm towel around Sid’s face. “What’s his name?”

“Kris Letang.”

“Tanger, yes! Kind of a dick sometimes but…” he trails off as Sid laughs. It’s lovely. “Very good hair. Very cute kid.”

“You’ve met Alex?”

“Cut his hair. Doesn’t need stories about dinosaurs.”

“He’s a pretty confident kid,” Sid says as Geno unwraps the towel and brushes on the shaving cream.

“Tell Tanger hello for me. Won’t be coming in for a few weeks.”

Sid nods and Geno presses his hand beneath his jaw to keep him still, the straight blade poised above his skin.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” he says and Geno makes the first slow swipe.

 

* * *

 

Sid rides the T home in a daze. Every time he moves his head he catches the scent of the aftershave Geno’d patted into his skin, and whatever product that he’d worked through Sid’s hair. Sid’s never put a lot of thought into scented products, ever. Well, besides taking his sister’s advice that Axe “is for 13 year olds and fuckboys, Sid,” but this is… really nice.

Even nicer were Geno’s huge, warm hands cupping his face and working through his hair, and the deep rumble of his voice. And fuck, Geno sitting on the floor, gently cutting a baby’s hair and spouting soothing nonsense about dinosaurs? Sid is feeling severely compromised. That image is going to stay with him a long, long time.

“So? How was it?” Tanger asks him later, looking smug. “Fantastic, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” Sid says distantly, and wills himself not to blush.

 

* * *

 

Geno’s in just finishing a haircut when Sid comes in again.

Boris Popov is a little old Russian man that lives two blocks away from Britva. He always wears too much cologne and talks the entire time about the old country, mostly without even taking a breath.

Geno watches Sid watch him for a full thirty seconds before he concedes that he’s not going to be able to actually say hello until Boris is out of the shop.

Sid waves and Geno smiles and nods as Sid moves out of the doorway to sit on one of the low benches in the waiting area.

Boris is recounting up foggy memories of a great aunt as Geno follows the strong line of Sid’s shoulders.

Geno quickly but professionally finishes Boris’ trim but by now Boris has gone off on a run about what he used to do on New Year’s—a story Geno’s heard at least four times—and keeps Geno pinned to his station for another ten minutes.

Finally Boris shuffles out the door and Geno heaves a sigh as he turns on his heel and faces Sid.

“Sorry,” he says and Sid immediately waves off the apology. “His wife died a few years ago,” Geno explains as he grabs a broom and starts to sweep up. “They were together for sixty-seven years. All his kids move far away. He’s retired. Comes here once a week just to talk. Give him a trim. Make sure he looks good.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He shrugs. Truth is by the time Boris was his age he’d been married to his wife for twelve years and had two kids. Secretly Geno worries he’ll be lonely for even longer. He’ll grow old with no partner or kids. He hopes down the road someone will show him the same amount of kindness he shows to Boris.

Geno looks Sid over. His hair isn’t nearly as long as it was the last time he came in but the stubble on his face is a bit thicker.

“Here for a shave,” he asks as he puts down the broom and grabs a new cape off the hook on the wall for him.

“A trim too, if you have time?”

Sid’s hair is barely beginning to curl at the edges. A trim will take them clean off.

But he smiles anyways and shakes out the cape before he flicks it around Sid’s shoulders and snaps it together at the back of his neck.

 

* * *

 

Sid might have a problem. A slight one. Or, well, it’s not that much of a problem. Britva is just a really nice place to get a haircut. And it’s not far away and—

Sid definitely has a problem.

He keeps a weather eye on his hair, and the moment it gets the slightest bit shaggy around the ears he books an appointment and tries to tell himself he’s not twitching with excitement about seeing Geno again. Geno and his gentle hands and his resonant voice and—Sid needs to stop lying to himself.

Anyway. Every time his hair is even remotely long enough to excuse the visit, Sid goes, and oh, it’s bliss. When Geno uses the clippers, sometimes his knuckles will brush against Sid’s ears or cheek And when he throws the cape thing around Sid’s shoulders? For a split second Sid’s almost in Geno’s arms, close enough to smell his intoxicating cologne and see the deep brown of his eyes up close.

And getting his hair washed in one of the sinks... Sid has to concentrate so hard on not moaning out loud as Geno’s hands work their magic on his scalp, massaging in shampoo and conditioner with firm, practiced expertise. Sid feels himself nearly melt into his chair as the tension drains from his body.

Sid knows he needs to stop this, though. It’s beyond inappropriate to keep coming here just because he’s infatuated with the barber. This is Geno’s place of work, for fuck’s sake.

Also, Sid thinks maybe Geno has picked up on Sid’s pathetic crush. He must have. Each time he comes in, Evgeni makes a sad face, and _tsks_ at him about his curls, and the fact that Sid’s keeping his hair so short, and it’s a blow to the gut. He has to know, and now he’s trying to be nice about getting rid of Sid.

 _Okay,_ Sid thinks. _Okay. I can take a hint._

 

* * *

 

Geno finds himself waiting for him.

He has favorite customers—most people in this line of business do. The ones that tip really well or keep the conversations flowing easily without much prompting. Then there are the few who bring homemade cookies each time they come.

Sid has left an impression in a different way.

Sid is special.

He tips the normal amount. Sometimes he comes in looking tired and stressed and doesn’t say much as, just closes his eyes and takes several calming breaths as he gets his hair washed, like he needs the physical touch to ground him.

He’s sure to take extra care of Sid on those days. Sid’s time bleeds into his later appointments because he shampoos him twice and spends extra time conditioning him, letting his fingertips brush against his temples and the crown of his head as Sid almost falls asleep while he’s tipped back in the sink.

Sid doesn’t bring him anything but a shy smile as he talks about his dog back home in Canada or the group of kindergarteners that came to the museum for a field trip.

Sid is sweet and kind and funny when he wants to be.

He’s also so appreciative when he’s ushered straight into a chair even without making an appointment.

But the truth is Geno has grown to know his schedule and has been penciling him into his appointment book—every two weeks on Wednesday afternoons.

When Sid misses his first appointment Geno frowns down at the book until his next customer comes in.

Everytime the bell above the door rings his head snaps up, hoping that maybe it’s him.

But it never is.

Sidney Crosby came into his life with an amazing head of hair and an even better heart and now he’s simply gone.

Out of his life as quick as he came into it.

He stops looking up every time the door opens but he still keeps Sid’s name in the book.

He still hopes.

 

* * *

 

It’s been three months since Sid’s been in to Geno’s to get his hair cut. His [hair’s the longest it’s been in ages](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OUXFHB5QBU), curling about his ears and down his neck.

He avoids the barbershop like his life depends on it.

But, eventually, Taylor comes down for a visit and she insists on visiting the coffeeshop that’s right by Britva. It’s got some kind of godawful sugarbomb of a latte she’s had before when visiting (tagging along to Sid’s biweekly haircut, of course). Something with “birthday cake” in the name; Sid doesn’t want to ask.

He can’t refuse her anything, though, especially when he sees her so seldom. So they go, and she gets her sprinkle-fest and he gets a cappuccino and they sit by the window. Sid can’t help but eye the barbershop next door, but he tries not to torture himself.

He gets invested in the story Taylor’s telling about her new kitten, but then the door swings open with a wild tinkling of its bell, and the Viking-esque barista shouts out “Genooo!” happily.

“Get me coffee, Horny,” he hears Geno say. “Day worst. Need most coffee.”

Sid isn’t gonna turn around. He isn’t.

Taylor needs to quit that smirking she’s doing.

Sid caves. He turns around. Geno’s leaning back on the counter chatting with the barista. He’s facing Sid, and their eyes meet.

“Sid,” Geno says, eyes wide. “ _Sid_.” He’s looming over Sid and Taylor’s table before Sid can blink twice.

And he’s got one of Sid’s curls wrapped around his finger.

“You let grow!” he exclaims, in tones of almost-reverence. Sid can’t breathe, just stares up at him.

“I always tell him he needs to let it grow out, you know?” Taylor says, grinning. “It’s just he had the _worst_ crush on his barber? So—”

“TAY,” Sid warns, but it’s too late. He swallows nervously, then tips his head to look up at Geno, to see his reaction.

Geno looks like he’s just been hit over the head. “Sid…had crush on me?” And that’s wonder, in his voice.

“Has,” Sid says, voice raspy. “Has.”

Geno’s smile is wide and beautiful, and his hand moves gently through Sid’s hair as though he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Squid, I’m gonna take a long walk around the block, okay? There’s a park with _so many_ dogs I need to go pet. You and Geno catch up,” Taylor says with a wink as she gets up.

Geno sits down in her vacated seat. He reaches one of his hands across the table, palm up. Sid threads his fingers through Geno’s, blushing red.

“Hi. Hi, Sid,” Geno ways, voice warm and fond. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” Sid answers. “I missed you too.”

 

 

* * *

 

Geno stands behind Sid with scissors and a comb in his hands.

“Sweetheart, please, is not scary, I promise.”

Dima looks up at him from where he’s perched on Sid’s lap. His lip wobbles and his eyes squeeze shut and when he starts to wail Sid gathers him close to his chest and spins the chair around.

“Maybe we should try it another day, G.You’ve tried everything. You’ve told him every story and I’ve held up every stuffed animal you have in the box and nothing is working. He’s just not ready.”

Geno gathers the comb and the shears into one hand and scratches the back of his neck as he looks down at their son.

His hair is starting to fall past his shoulders and Geno doesn’t have any problem with him keeping his hair at that length, or even longer, but it’s starting to get into his eyes and his food while he eats and the zipper of his coat. He absolutely hates it when they try to pull it off his face and into a ponytail.

“No,” Geno says as he bends down and gently peels him away from Sid. “Sweetheart,” he says as softly as he can. “Sweetheart, please, it’s going to be okay. Here, I show, okay?”

He turns the two of them around and Dima watches in the mirror as Geno rakes the comb through Sid’s hair near his ear. He cuts off a half an inch and holds the lock of hair out for Dima to take.

He looks down at it and then up at Sid then back down at the curl of black hair in his tiny hand with wide eyes.

“See,” Sid says. “It didn’t hurt. Papa didn’t hurt me, I didn’t even feel it.”

“And doesn’t he look good,” Geno asks as he drapes himself over Sid’s shoulders. “Your daddy is the _most_ handsome. You want to let me try on you?”

Geno moves the comb and scissors forward, forearms on Sid’s shoulders and Dima freezes.

“It’s okay,” Geno says as Sid rubs his back. “Just one little snip and if you don’t like, we stop, okay?”

He nods and Geno slowly moves forward, catching a small amount of hair in the comb and cutting it.

The hair falls onto the bright blue cape covering his body and he looks down at it.

Geno feels Sid’s shoulders tense as they wait but finally he looks into the mirror with a huge smile.

Sid smiles back at him and Geno presses his face into the crook of Sid’s neck.

“Thank god,” he says to Sid as he keeps trimming the hair out of his eyes and around his ears. “You know, first time your daddy came in here his hair looks just like this.” He stops cutting long enough to run his hand through Sid’s hair, his fingers catching on the curls. Dima locks eyes with him in the mirror. “He ask me to cut his hair so short. I had to do it,” he says and he presses a kiss to the top of Sid’s head before he resumes the trim. “He keeps coming back, all the time, every week.”

“It wasn’t every week,” Sid says and Dima’s eyes shift to his. “It was every other week.” There’s a splash of color on his cheeks as he admits to him, “I just wanted to see your papa.”

“Know that now. Back then I think _‘why does this beautiful man make my life so difficult. Best hair, always making me cut it._ ”’ He tsks. “Could have just said _‘I like you, want to go get coffee sometime?’_ Would have said yes so fast.” He makes the last cut and stands up straight. His hands stay on Sid’s shoulders.

“You could have asked me that too.”

“True.” He turns the chair around and kisses Dima on the forehead and ruffles his freshly cut hair before he leans up and presses his lips to Sid’s. “Took some time but glad we figured it out.”

They stay like that, smiling warmly at each other with their son chattering happily between them until the bell above the door chimes.

He kisses Sid once more before he steps away to work on his next appointment.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [werebear ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear/). 
> 
>    
> CloudCover:  
> [My AO3 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/CloudCover)  
> You can find me as [creaturesofnarrative ](http://creaturesofnarrative.tumblr.com/) (main) and [knifeshoeoreofight](http://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/) (hockey blog) on Tumblr, and as @RainyForecast on Twitter. Come say hi and cry with me about how hockey both real and fictional has eaten our lives.


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